


The Waitress's Tale

by seperis



Series: Images in a Broken Mirror [3]
Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-23
Updated: 2000-11-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seperis/pseuds/seperis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Interesting things happen in random diners. Haven't you ever seen Reservoir Dogs? Okay, well this ain't it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Waitress's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Author's retrospective: yes, dialect again, what the hell? I don't know. If you're reading this--and honestly, I'm surprised--you're probably less wondering 'what was I thinking then' and more 'why on earth are you posting these here when the evidence of their existence (ie, other sites these were archived on, original mailing list) has vanished?' Yes, I ask myself that as well. I figure this; if you are reading this, you probably feel better about yourself as a writer. I feel like this is an important community service, for no matter what level you are as a writer now, you will improve. If you need an ego boost, I suggest checking out 'Flight' in my X-Men work. You will feel like goddamn Mark Twain compared to that little exercise in experimental surrealism. 
> 
> This one, still better than that. I feel like I've grown as a person.
> 
> Christ, dialect, twice; why?

You want some coffee, sugar? Cream? Good--as my daddy always said, if you want cream and sugar, *drink* cream and sugar, don't order coffee. Plain, strong, and hot. You're that type, aren't you? Yeah, you look it.

Here you go. Yeah, I've been workin' here for fifteen years. Not a bad job as they go. What day are you talkin' about? Yeah, I was working that night--oh, you wanna know about the incident, doncha? Everyone does. We're not supposed to talk about it, you understand. And I don't wanna get that little girl in trouble--she was a nice little thing. Real quiet, no trouble to her so you think--well, yeah, that's true. But a sweet little girl all the same--no one can make me believe different. No one. She ain't responsible.

It was late, you understand. Almost empty--weeknights are always pretty slow, and I was finishing up recording the register when she walked in. Real pretty little girl--thought she was a runaway at first, then a junkie--she jerked when I spoke to her, asked her what she wanted. Asked for coffee--yeah, I remember that. Coffee, no cream. Kind of smiled when I commented, said she'd picked up the habit from a friend. Little gloved hands, shook when she held the cup--had to wonder if those gloves hid needle trails. Spilled some on the counter, kept lookin' over her shoulder like she expected something to happen. Or someone. Then kind of looked at me and sort of sighed.

"Sorry. I'm just--just a little tense. It's been a long day." She keeps fingering this chain around her neck--yeah, how'd you know? Dog tags, like in the army. Kept starin' at them, would drop em, but then would stare again and shake her head. Like she was gonna cry but she didn't.

I asked if I could call her folks--she looked like she needed help. There ain't nothin' worse than bein' alone in the world, honey, I told her. Nothin'. She kind of stared at me--no one's ever looked at me like that. Sort of shook her head and then this little laugh. Said her folks were as dead to her and good riddance or some such. Didn't believe her, of course--lotsa kids have problems at home, you know?

So--you want s'more coffee there, honey? Just a sec--I have a fresh pot made. I'd better get some myself--that night isn't easy to remember, you know. Poor girl.

Here you go. Where was I? Never mind--I'm not so old I can't still tell a story, you know?

Anyway, she took about three cups--wouldn't take her gloves off and was real skittish 'bout me pourin'--backed her whole body away from me when I did it. Then asked me for a map--said she wanted to find somethin' and wasn't sure if it was nearby. I didn't have one but told her that the convenience store next door did, so she popped down her money and said she'd be back.

I wiped the counter and went to fill her cup--I figured she'd be back. Finished some inventory, heard the door ring and turned 'round with her cup, kinda surprised she got over and back so fast.

It wasn't her. And you know what--I ain't never reacted like that before, I dropped the cup. Broke right at my feet--splashed hot coffee all the way up my leg and never felt it--and I was so glad I had an excuse to duck down. Never been so glad for breaking somethin' in my life. Never.

I'm fine, thank you hon. Fine. But that--you know what the worst part is? I can't even explain what made me do it. Because there wasn't anything 'bout them that should've done it. Yeah, a bit higher class than the usual patrons--but that ain't nothing to set off the old alarm, right? So you'd think. Lemme get a drink, just a minute. Alright.

They walked in and looked around a little--one of them kind of nodded and took off to the bathrooms--I was about to tell him they were locked and he needed a key, but he got the door open, no sweat. Weird that, and it sorta stuck in my mind. The other two came up to me--and you know what? I wanted to run. Run *bad*, and I'm all of forty and there's not much I haven't seen or done, hon. Not much. But just lookin' at them--dressed like businessmen, nothin' that should scare me--I wanted to just drop those pieces of the cup and run--as fast and as far as I could. And there's no logic in that.

"You need something, fellows?" I says, trying to keep my hands down so they couldn't see 'em shake. And they were shakin' so bad the pieces of the cup kept clattering together between my fingers and I cut my hand nasty and didn't even notice until later. I dropped the pieces in the trash beside me and kept my gaze on their coats--they was all dressed pretty nice, you see. Suits, the short one carried a briefcase. Kept lookin' 'round, like he expected to find somethin'. Lookin' for somethin'.

 

I figured right quick they were lookin' for her.

"We're looking for a young girl--a runaway. It's imperative we locate her immediately." He dropped a picture on the bar--yeah, I do have it. Lemme get it, just a sec--they forgot it, you see, had other things on their mind. Here it is. Your girl, huh? I expect so. Pretty thing. Scared to death.

Anyways--I sort of stared at it and--and I said no. And I thank God every day I did--I thank God, because something like that on my conscience, I wouldn't sleep at night. These weren't her parents or anyone else I'd want a little thing like that to go to.

They looked at me and then at each other--odd-like--and the short one nodded and pulled off his gloves, put them on the bar. Smiled at me, friendly-like, but there weren't nothin' behind that smile but teeth. And one of those hands came toward me and--and I know I screamed. I screamed and backed up, straight up to the coffee-maker, and I can't even tell you why on that, either. Because there weren't nothing odd about them there hands, honey. Nothin' at all. Just hands--but I didn't want them on me. No where near me. Not ever.

They both looked sort of startled.

"Ma'am--this girl is very dangerous." He stepped up close to the bar, kept trying to catch my eyes, now that I was out of reach of his hands. "She's a danger to herself and everyone around her--her parents are worried sick what could happen. Ma'am--" he glanced down at my name tag--"Shirley--we really need your assistance in this matter."

And I couldn't move--I mean that. I was *scared* you understand? Just two men, asking about that poor little girl, but I was scared to death for her and for me. And not ten minutes before, I told myself she needed to be with her folks--but this weren't her folks nor anything like it.

And the bell rang and we all looked at the door--she weren't lookin' up or she would have run, lemme tell you, and I would have screamed the house down to give her the time to make it. She had a map in her hand and I saw one of her gloves was off and she was sort of pulling it back on then she suddenly stopped---started sort of sniffing the air--and her head came straight up and she looked right at them.

"Marie." And the short man sort of smiled and grabbed his gloves back on quick as can be. "We were getting worried we wouldn't find you."

She didn't move at all--and a part of me wanted to just yell at her to go and get as lost as she could, because mebbe there were worse things than being alone in the world--mebbe there was havin' to go with them.

She still didn't move and--and I can't describe it, but something changed--she was this little girl but then again she wasn't and--it was damned scary to watch. She dropped the glove she'd been tryin' to put on, let the map fall with it, starin' at them both, eyes all narrowed, looking' them up and down, like she was takin' in their measure. Then she sort of smiled.

"This isn't my parent's house." Her voice was all low, really soft, and then--you ever see one of those animals in the zoo, the new ones especial, when they don't like the bars and see them as some sort of opponent that can be killed or somethin'? Yeah, you know--lookin' at you, I'd guess you know. She had that look--like she was gettin' ready to do something. And she stripped her jacket--real deliberate--and her arms were bare and that seemed to disturb them some. Kind of flexed her fingers.

"Marie, you can make this easy or hard. Let's make it easy, girl." They weren't really tryin' to convince her, I don't think--they wanted her to do somethin' stupid, like attack or run or somethin'--her standing so still like that sort of confused them. And the short one opened his briefcase and I saw what he pulled out--and God, God, God I never expected that.

He was holdin' a collar--like you'd put on your dog. A metal collar for that little girl.

"It will be better this way, Marie. Safer for everyone--your reputation precedes you. You know how dangerous you are." The tall one was sort of smirkin', took a step toward her--I noticed he was wearin' gloves too--odd the things you notice at times like that, right?

 

She was sort of smilin' then--and she was sizin' them up--and I realized that she didn't know about the third guy back at the bathroom--and anyway, she was so small, looked like she'd break in two in a good wind.

"You wanna put a star on me too?" she said, real quiet. "Maybe? Experiment a little to see what makes me different?"

"We can fix your problem, Marie. Just do what--"

"My name ain't Marie." And she grinned then, like this was the best day of her life, and her whole body went tense and whatever it was, she was ready for it. "It's Rogue."

The tall one pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at her head.

"No more games."

"You better believe it, sugar." And she ducks--no one can move that fast, I've never seen nothin' like it. She was crouched on the floor, rolled and kicked the tall guy in the knee, knocked him right down, and something snapped when she got that gun outta his hand. She brought it down on his temple once and then kicked it toward the counter and sort of crouched there, lookin' 'round--like she smelled somethin' but couldn't tell if she liked it or not.

It happened so fast--but almost like you're watchin' a slow-motion video, you know? Like--like I saw everything and--no, honey, I'm fine. I just--I remember this so well. It's disturbing, you know?

The second guy took a step back but he unhooked the collar and that's when I saw the third guy comin' up behind her--and she just happened to look up and saw where I was staring--and she spun on her heel, not even standin' up yet. Kicked out with one foot, brought him straight down. He hit his head on the table and hit the floor and once she was sure he was out, she just dismissed him from her mind like he didn't even exist.

The short guy looked damned startled--you see, they didn't expect her to fight I don't think--her just knowin' what would work fast and best and not much caring what happened to the person on the other end. She was still crouched, watchin' him, then stood up nice and slow and reached out with her gloved hand and got him around the throat--and he didn't even try to move. Lifted him straight up off the floor, spun around and knocked him against the wall. That collar clattered to the floor and she kicked it hard enough to spin it to the other side of the room.

"Give me an excuse." And she held up that ungloved hand and his eyes got huge and he started babbling--just babbling.

"Stay the fuck away from me. All of you." She pulled him down the wall, let his feet touch the floor. "You don't know what I got inside me--unless you wanna join up. Do you?" She held her palm up toward his face and he started shakin', eyes all wild--I was shaking myself--because I thought she was just a little girl--and that weren't no little girl standin' there--

\--thanks. I'm not usually this clumsy. Lemme get you some more coffee and a napkin--don't wanna ruin your clothes there, sugar. Here we go. No, I'm fine, doncha worry. Just--you know, you don't expect to see somethin' like that. Not ever.

After a second, she lets go and lets him fall, sorta stands over him--and she looks disappointed--like something was supposed to happen more.

"Next time, there won't be a warning. There's a cage in Laughlin with your name on it, sugar, if you wanna dance again." And then she turns around and picks up her jacket and her glove. Then she's pulling it on and looks up at me, still cowering by the coffee-maker--

And suddenly, she's a little girl again and she starts shakin'. Almost drops her glove tryin' to get it on, kneels down to pick up the map, then shakes her head.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers it--then she's gone. And I stare at the door I don't move.

When I was sure she's as far away as is safe, I called the police.

How'd you know? They thought she took it. But I picked it up, hid it in my jacket--still don't know what the hell it is--it ain't like any dog's collar I ever saw. Here ya go--I figured someone would come for it and--well, you know that feeling I got from her, that I needed to protect her? Well--I got this feeling--I trust 'em, I've been usin' 'em for years-- you can do that for her, can't you? I saw how you looked at her picture. She needs someone, God knows. I woulda taken her home myself, no matter about men with guns lookin' for her.

No, she didn't say anything about her past or where she was goin'. Nothin' much at all, everything I told you she said here. I hope you find her. I really do. Before they do, anyways. They don't look like the type that'll give up, you know? You never told me your name, sugar. Logan?

Logan.

That's what she kept whispering over those tags, like she was prayin'. Yeah, I remember that. I remember.

You goin'? You have a good night, kay? Thanks. And when you see her--you tell her good luck for me. And I always have the best coffee in Canton. Always. Anytime she wants some.


End file.
